Echoes
by hannahannah
Summary: An echo is a glimpse, a glance into our hearts. It shows us our truest dreams, our deepest fears. Echoes are not always friendly, and they always leave us feeling alone. A set of darker, DH-compatible drabbles. COMPLETE.
1. Frustration

She slammed the book shut, exasperated at its editor, at herself.

Her world was crumbling, and she blamed her teachers, her friends, the world. None of the books that she could pore over would make the next few months any easier.

She opened the book just to slam it again, savoring the resounding echoes.

Again she slammed it shut, releasing her frustration, her anger at the world.

And then one more time.

And this fourth time, the slam mocked her. It reverberated in her ears one hundred times, calling her dumb, lazy; echoing--- until she threw herself down and cried.


	2. Anger

Draco paced the halls of the Slytherin dungeons, his boots crashing into the stone floors.

His father. In Azkaban.

How dare his father blacken the family name?! How dare he leave Draco open to the stares of pity which would surround him in the Slytherin Common room?! How dare his father leave him the gruesome responsibility of restoring their place in the Dark Lord's Circle?!

What, after everything they had done for the Ministry, was so severe that money couldn't fix it???

His angry footsteps echoed down the corridor, the footsteps of a man determined to make his father proud.


	3. Failure

Dumbledore took a deep breath in his office.

He thought what he was asking was fairly reasonable: teach the son of the man you hated -and the woman you loved- how to defend his mind, so that he doesn't get us all killed.

On second thought, maybe not so reasonable.

But he needed Severus to do it.

And instead of an acceptance, instead of agreeing to swallow his personal distaste for Harry … All he had were the echoes of the door Severus slammed on his way out- echoes that seemed to foretell failure, disaster.

Dumbledore took another deep breath.


	4. Disillusion

Thud.  
The ax had swung.  
After all the work that Hermione had done.

Harry's mind went blank, needing to comfort Hagrid.  
Hermione swayed, disillusioned.  
Ron struggled to keep a hold of his rat in shock.

Thud.  
The ax had swung.  
After all of Hermione's efforts.

The Committee had come in with a verdict, ready to ignore the pleading in Buckbeak's eyes.  
They had talked for barely a minute.  
And then, they had killed Buckbeak.

Thud.  
The ax had swung.  
They had tried so hard to save a life.

They'd failed.

Echoes from the ax's harsh swing rang in their ears.


	5. Pain

Professor Snape strode towards the basement furiously, clutching his left arm tightly, as though he were trying to squeeze all the pain from it. He was late to his class for the first time that he could remember.

If only his Master wouldn't insist on calling them through a method which caused pain when ignored.

Snape pushed the door open, letting it swing closed as he walked over to the teacher's desk and flicked the day's potion onto the board.

As the door's closing echoed ominously throughout the dungeon, Snape gritted his teeth and squeezed his arm.

"Thirty Minutes. Begin."


	6. Fear

Hermione gulped.  
It didn't help, so she did it again.

No change: the mound of what had looked like dirt was standing now, clearly a giant -  
a huge angry giant threatening to rip up a pine tree.

She could hear the ground straining and the ropes snapping. The air was thick and frozen;  
everything seemed to be slowed down, as Grawp flailed around, bent on releasing his hunger and anger.

Hagrid yelled "No, Grawpy – **NO**!". His final 'no' echoed terrifyingly through the forest, but Grawp ignored his half-brother, too engrossed in breaking the pine in half.

Hermione gulped yet again.


	7. Tears

Lying here, I can see nothing. It is here that Voldemort's self will beat me on his third try.  
With my death, Ginny will be locked inside this chamber.

Colors surround me, most too murky to distinguish through the pain.  
Yet some flash clearly. In this stone chamber there is only one thing they can be.

**_Red-Orange._**  
Ginny.  
Doomed here, dying by my failure.

_**Green.**_  
Basilisk.  
Dead by my hand.

**_Scarlet._**  
Fawkes.  
Crying for our deaths.

Riddle's menacing footprints echo loudly in my mind.  
My mind screams in agony from the colors, the echoes.

Fawkes is crying. The colors unspin.


	8. Hurt

Her fingers practically tore off the wrapping, sending fluffy tissue paper scattering throughout the room.  
Layer after layer, each time the potential gift inside shrunk in size and Hermione's heart dropped closer to the ground.

Just as she was beginning to wonder if there was really a gift inside at all, she had torn off the final wrapping, exposing an egg smaller than **her fist.**

Mrs. Weasley had ruined this whole Easter for her …

As Hermione bit back a sob, she heard the boys' shouts of glee at the mammoth size of their eggs echoing unapologetically in her ears.


	9. Trembling

He stood there, watching them squirm, watching them grovel, watching them throw their bodies across their own marble floor, watching them beg forgiveness as they threw away family pride in hopes of sparing their worthless lives.

He stood there, smirking- a cold shadow of the emotion cruelly flickering in his blood red eyes.

Lucius dared speak: a pathetic announcement of his perpetual service, of his family's willingness to assist the Dark Lord, of their-

A silent Cruciatus cut him off, but his screams echoed across the Manor, and the Malfoys trembled.


	10. Heartbreak

_Thank you for reading and reviewing. Here is the 1000th echo, the tenth and final small piece on the hurt which life sometimes makes us face._

* * *

Ron and Lavender lay pressed together on the plush Gryffindor couch, their eyes closed, lips locked in their perpetual songfest.

The other Gryffindors had rapidly decided that the eternal nature of these kisses was more ridiculous than romantic, so they made sure to give the enraptured couple their space.

But for Hermione, it never looked like anything less than pain, reckless abandonment.  
It never sounded like anything but her heart shattering.  
It never felt like anything but failure, like anything but her ugliness.

It never stopped, for the sounds of their obsession echoed in her heart for days on end.


End file.
